


Boxes

by SpicyCheese



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: 4x03 follow up, Gen, everyone on this show needs to see someone- to be fair, that therapy fic I said I'd never do but is here anyway, there isn't anyone on this show (or in general) who couldn't benefit though honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 16:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16538003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyCheese/pseuds/SpicyCheese
Summary: A moment passes, before the woman speaks again “Well since we’ve already gone over the required basics- confidentiality, the purpose of therapy- how my job is to help you, help youself- and the whole Jerry McGuire dynamic…” her mouth twitches up, a twinkle of humor in her eye. “I’ll skip right to the meat of it. What brings you back to therapy?”“Boxes.”OrThe therapy fic I swore to myself I'd never write, but here we are.





	Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> I have held out writing at therapy fic for... well, forever now, but after 4x03 I couldn't contain it any longer. Hope you like it so far, I have quite a few ideas of where I want this could go- Let me know if you all are interested :)

*_*_*_*_*

 

“You know HIPPA covers confidentiality fairly thoroughly...” the woman says,handing the paper back.

Lena smiles wryly placing the NDO paperwork in a folder. “Better safe than sorry.” She slips he folder back into her purse. “So…”

“So?”

Lena blinks, waiting. She resists the urge to cross her arms impatiently.

“So, I saw on your intake sheet that you’ve had therapy before.”

“Yes. Quite a bit.”

The therapist, Sydney, nods, and Lena’s wonders for what feels like the millionth time, if this was a mistake. The woman sits across from her, swimming in an over sized fisherman’s sweater, sporting maroon denim skater jeans, Vans, and a short, floppy haircut. She couldn’t be more than Kara’s age, more than her own age even. How much could she really know?

On the other hand, anyone Cat Grant recommends is worth investigating.

A moment passes, before the woman speaks again “Well since we’ve already gone over the required basics- confidentiality, the purpose of therapy- how my job is to help you, help yourself, the whole Jerry McGuire dynamic…” her mouth twitches up, a twinkle of humor in her eye. “I’ll skip right to the meat of it. What brings you back to therapy?”

“Boxes.”

The word is out before she can stop it. Sydney waits a beat, seemingly unphased by the non sequitur “What do you mean?”

“I put things in boxes,” Lena continues, as confidently as she can manage. “Emotions. I compartmentalize stuff. In order to keep going.”

Sydney nods, patient.

Lena takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She’s never liked this part. The part where she has to really say things.  “I told a coworker to do that as well. He was having some trouble. It was a crisis and he was breaking down and I told him what I do. How I put my anger, my fear, away in boxes, so I can do what needs doing."

“And what happened?”

“And it worked,” Lena shrugs, sitting back in a huff of mild indignation. She crosses her arms, then quickly uncrosses them- _rookie mistake_. She schools herself to something more composed. “He was able to solve the problem, we got through the crisis. It all worked out. It was perfectly fine.”

“Except it wasn’t,” Sydney says, bluntly.

“I’m _here_ ,” Lena says, something grey and tight seeping into her tone. “Because he told his boss what I said.”

“And they weren’t happy, I take it?”

“No,” Lena says, and the will to iron out the annoyance in her voice is crumbling. “She was not.”

Sydney nods again, still frustratingly neutral. “How did she react?”

“She pulled me aside. Told me she was ‘ _concerned’_.” Lena throws air quotes around the last word, this time not holding back the pinch of sarcasm.

“And how did that make you feel?”

Lena huffs a laugh, “The ultimate stock therapist phrase…”

“I don’t like to make assumptions,“ the woman shrugs casually. “If there a different way you’d like me to phrase it, I can, but the only way I’m going to know for sure how you feel, is if you tell me.” She pauses. “I’m usually pretty direct- just easier that way-  but again, if you want me to back off a bit, whatever, just say so. There’s a million ways to get where we need to go, might as well be ones that work for you.”

Lena sits with that a moment. She’s never had it phrased quite like that.

“So back to the question at hand- if you’re okay with that, that is,” Sydney says quietly. “How did you feel about that? About his boss saying she was ‘concerned’ about you.”

“Angry,” Lena says so quickly that it takes her a bit by surprise. “It’s none of her business.” She pauses, chuckling darkly. “And it’s not like she’s the best at taking care of herself either, so it felt a bit hypocritical.”

“You took it as she thought you weren’t doing a good job taking care of yourself?”

“Yes. She said she was concerned because,” Lena puts air quotes up again. “ _‘Putting things in boxes forever isn’t healthy’_. I know it’s not, obviously, but like I said, it’s none of her business.”

“What is your relationship with this person, his boss? Are they a stranger?”

“No. She’s... ” Lena pauses, trying to categorize exactly how Alex fits into her life. “She’s my best friend’s sister. We’ve worked together a few times over the last few years, hung out a few times...” Lena smiles to herself at the bizarreness of it all. “Saved each other’s lives, and the world a few times together too, actually.”

“Thanks for that by the way,” Sydney tips an imaginary hat. “But fair to say, not a stranger then, though?” she asks.“Yet you still feel it’s none of her business, expressing concern.”

There’s no question mark, though still a question, so Lena answers it. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Whose business is it then?- To be concerned about you, I mean.”

“Mine,” she furrows her brow.

Sydney smiles, as if reading her mind. “No need to figure out where I’m going with this,” she says. “I like to be pretty transparent. I’m just assessing your support network. So who, besides yourself, would you be okay being worried about you.”

“I’m not particularly okay with anyoneworrying about me, to be honest.”

She lets Lena’s comment hang in the air just long enough before adding wryly, “I can assume you can see why that might be problematic?”

Lena bristles. “Is this the part where we go into my sad childhood. Cold, unloving, apparently evil mother, distant and maladaptive father, unstable brother…”

Sydney shrugs. “Only if you want to.”

Lena feels stumped. So she waits. Lex taught her chess, Lionel taught her business, Lillian taught her survival. Between all of them she knows the value in patience, in waiting for the other party to make a move so she can counter.

So she waits.

Sydney waits too.

(Though a lot more patiently it seems.)

It’s only a minute, maybe two, but it feels like forever, and though Sydney talks first, it doesn’t feel like a win for Lena.

The woman sighs and moves her hands in a helpless gesture. “Lena, therapy is about you, whatever you want to make of it. If you want to talk about your past, great. If you just want to talk about your present or future, go for it. Like I said, I’m here to help you, help yourself. No more, no less.”

Lena sits. She breathes in slowly through her nose, holds for a moment, and blows out through her mouth, counting to five and imagining the breath blown as she would through a bubble wand- slow and controlled. It’s something she was taught as a child (by therapist number two actually) and it’s one of the few things that actually helps her calm down.

She looks down at her hands, digits nervously fidgeting with each other, and thinks about it for the first time since arriving at the appointment- what does she want to do here? What does she want to get out of therapy?

“I’m afraid if I open up, open the boxes, I might not be able to put things back in.”

Lena’s not sure she’s even said it out loud until she looks up and find Sydney’s thick eyebrows knit in concentration. Attentive. Listening.

“Like Humpty-Dumpty. Not sure if you’ll be able to put yourself together again?” the woman says, all joking vanished.

Lena lets out a sad chuckle, nods. “Yes. Exactly.”

“Fair enough. That’s a totally legitimate concern.” Sydney says, plumping her lower lip out in a gesture of acceptance. Leaning back, slumps down a bit, taking on a casual but controlled feel that Lena is 100% okay with for some reason. “I promise we won’t go anywhere too intense until we’re ready. Until we’re both sure you know what to do, how to deal with that stuff. Until we have a plan,” Sydney says, settling her forearms on the cheap armrests lightly. “So can we agree to put a pin in some of that deeper stuff for a moment?”

Lena nods, almost dumbly.

“I feel, though,” the other woman smiles, warmly, “It’s my job to point out the fact that, whether or not you felt this was your that boss' right to be concerned, you obviously agreed with her.” Her index finger dashes an imaginary point. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here, right?”

“Well, I’m not an idiot,” Lena deadpans, the comment gaining the first full-fledged, genuine, smile from the other woman.

“No, I don’t believe you are.” Sydney says. “So, what do we do next here, Lena?”

“I…” Lena pauses, bites her lip. “There are things I think I should work on. Things I haven’t quite… things I should face. So I can keep growing, not just going.”

“ _That_ , we can do,” Sydney grins settling back, kicking one leg to cross over the other. “So hit me. Whatcha got?”

Lena breathes deeply, slowly in, slowly out. “Boxes.” she nods. “I have a lot of them to probably unpack.”

“We'll see,” Sydney says, confidently and comfortably enough that Lena thinks it might not be so bad to let go of control for a bit. “ Let's start small though. Tell me about this coworker of yours...”

 

*_*_*_*_*


End file.
